


never saw that one coming

by story_monger



Category: Klaus (2019)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29688498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/story_monger/pseuds/story_monger
Summary: Getting stuck in a cabin during a blizzard is bad enough. Even worse when you're stuck in a cabin with the man you're disgustingly, embarrassingly in love with.
Relationships: Jesper Johanssen/Klaus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	never saw that one coming

The snow began in earnest around lunchtime, and by mid-afternoon, massive drifts of it had begun to accumulate along the post office’s eastern wall.

“You want my advice?” Alva asked, peering through the window while Jesper finished sorting the last of the day’s mail.

“Please, enlighten me,” Jesper replied, puzzling over an envelope with especially scrawled handwriting. “We all know I wouldn’t know how to scratch my ass in the morning without your advice.”

Alva snorted. “I’m glad you recognize my philanthropy.”

“I’m a humble man. What on god’s green earth is this supposed to be _saying_?”

Alva crossed the post office and leaned over Jesper’s shoulder to examine the scrawled envelope.

“It’s going to Harold Gespi in east town,” she said.

Jesper squinted at the envelope again. “You’re making that up,” he said.

“I teach children how to write, my friend. I can read chicken scratch with the best of them.”

“Eh. Can’t argue that.” Jesper jammed Harold’s letter in the appropriate slot and stood with a small bounce, brushing his hands together. “Great, sorting done. Pretty sure I can still make it to Klaus’ in time for—“

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Alva said. Jesper was about to shoot something pithy back before he realized that Alva was frowning out the window.

“Why?” Jesper glanced out the window as well. “’Cause of some snow? Alva, there’s always snow.”

“Yeah, there’s snow and then there’s snow.”

“Wow. Such insight. So glad you’re educating our youth.”

“I mean you’ve only been here two years; you haven’t been around long enough to see a really bad blizzard yet.”

“I haven’t?” Jesper made a face. “What about last month? I had to spend all morning digging myself to the outhouse.”

Alva tilted her head. “They get worse. A lot worse.”

“Ah. And you think this one is going to be a lot worse?”

Alva shrugged. “It’s built up fast. The conventional wisdom around here is when it starts snowing this hard, you find somewhere warm to hole up.” She glanced at Jesper. “Look, I just don’t want to see you stranded out there. If I were you, I’d wait until it stops snowing.”

“I told Klaus I’d be there tonight though,” Jesper said. He didn’t mean to sound so _plaintive_ when he said it.

Alva’s expression became abruptly sympathetic. “He’ll understand.”

Sure. Klaus would understand. Jesper probably knew that better than anyone. That didn’t change the fact that he’d been waiting two whole weeks to make it out to Klaus’ place. The idea of spending another evening alone in the post office made the bottom drop out of Jesper’s stomach.

He stared out the window as Alva wrapped a bright red scarf around her neck in preparation to leave. She shot Jesper a warning look. “I’m serious, Jesper,” she said. “Don’t go out there tonight. I don’t actually want to see you dead.”

Jesper dragged his gaze from the window and grinned at her. “Aw, she does care,” he said. Alva rolled her eyes and patted his shoulder before heading out the door. A blast of frigid air snuck in behind her, making Jesper wince. He watched Alva’s narrow frame disappear up the street while his fingers tapped restlessly against the desktop. Sure, the snow was deep, but not ridiculously deep. Jesper was pretty sure he’d seen worse. Probably.

He turned and took in the post office. It was homier than it had been two years ago. Klaus was the reason for that, coming in every so often to replace boards in the wall or re-tile a new section of the roof or place actual glass in the windows. Sometimes a few Sami or townspeople came to help, but Jesper preferred when the sleigh arrived bearing only Klaus and his pile of tools. As far as the work itself, Jesper was generally useless, running around trying to find nails and tripping over stray wood boards, until finally he relented and relegated himself to coffee and sandwich duty.

“They’re good sandwiches,” Klaus had said once while visiting. He had been working on replacing the floorboards in the bedroom. It had been May; downright balmy by Smeersburg standards. Jesper and Klaus had taken their lunch outside on the porch, clad only in light jackets.

“You know, I just feel like I should be able to hammer a nail into some wood by now,” Jesper observed. “I hang around you enough; I really ought to have absorbed more, y’know, carpentry wisdom by now.”

Klaus shrugged and finished his sandwich. “It doesn’t work like that, Jesper.”

“It _should_.”

“My skills came from years of practice.”

“Ugh.”

Klaus laughed, and Jesper was close enough that Klaus’ side brushed his. His throat tightened with that particular nameless emotion he’d come to associate with moments like this.

“Well,” Klaus said, his eyes still creased, “how about this? If you keep making the sandwiches, I’ll keep hammering the nails.”

There was an inappropriate joke somewhere in there that Jesper had to refrain from finding, so instead he pushed himself to a stand and popped his back. “Sounds like the beginning of a beautiful friendship, big guy.”

Now, months later, Jesper found himself standing at the entrance of his bedroom considering the floorboards. Meticulously placed, firmly nailed, sanded down and waxed and, really, a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. Klaus never produced anything less. It always filled Jesper with a weird sense of second-hand pride.

Jesper was abruptly hit with a wave of longing for Klaus. For his reassuring bulk and his soft eyes and the persistent scent of smoke and wood shavings. In that first year, so many nights had been defined by Jesper sitting beside Klaus and becoming familiar with those particular types of details. The sheer physicality of him. The way he could hold himself very still for hours on end, his breath coming out in great steaming plumes. In the beginning, Jesper had been unnerved by it. These days, he missed it. He missed Klaus. They hadn’t seen each other since their second successful Christmas operation nearly two weeks ago, needing to attend to the other mundanities of life that had been put on hold for all of December. And sure, Alva was right, Klaus would understand if Jesper stayed home tonight to avoid the storm, but they had agreed on this visit two weeks ago and Jesper _missed_ him.

Jesper was donning his scarf and coat almost before he could think about it. He added extra layers of pants and shirts to be safe and headed out to saddle up the horse. He’d avoid the cart tonight in case it got caught in any snowbanks—see? he knew what he was doing—and instead go by horseback. He’d made that damn journey so many times, anyway. He knew the curves and bend of the road, knew the cliffs and glens. He’d be fine. He’d be _fine_.

* * *

Jesper lost the trail ten minutes in. He didn’t realize it until twenty minutes in, when he finally untucked his chin from where it had been buried in his scarf and realized that he didn’t recognize this particular arrangement of trees. He twisted around in the saddle and squinted as best he could through the dim curtain of snow. He couldn’t see a trail per say, but he figured it was _probably_ the trail. Right? He turned forward again and squinted at trees again. They groaned like living things in the wind, and Jesper shuddered involuntarily.

“No problem,” he announced to the horse. “Nothing—nothing to worry about, right buddy? You wouldn’t lead me astray would yah?”

The horse swayed slightly, one ear flicking back at Jesper. He huffed and buried his face in one hand, aware of how the cold sliced through his gloves.

“Noooothing to worry about,” he said again, voice rasping slightly. He tugged at the reins. “C’mon. It’s easy. We just follow our footsteps back to the trail and keep—“ He stopped, because the hoof prints from minutes before were already beginning to fill in. The horse snorted again and shifted.

“No, shut up, we’re not gonna die out here,” Jesper snapped. He whapped the reins. “C’mon, move it!”

The horse obliged, albeit sluggishly. And then Jesper realized that it was going too slow, that the hoof prints were becoming fainter and fainter in the dusk. He dug his heels into the horse’s sides, but the snow had almost reached its belly, and it could move only at a slow walk. Panic, for the first time, began to climb up Jesper’s throat.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered, squinting hard through the wind. The cold seared through his nostrils and settled in his lungs like a physical weight. “Come _on_.”

The horse plodded forward, but any trace of their earlier path was swiftly wiped away, and Jesper realized that the snow and the dark made nothing recognizable. Blinking hard, he picked a clearish direction through the trees and urged the horse in that direction.

They walked for a long time. Too long. Jesper would have reached Klaus’ cabin by now under normal circumstances, but instead he’d been a sappy _idiot_ who missed his _friend_ too much and decided to go die in a _snowbank_ somewhere millions of miles from any human being and they would find Jesper’s body _months_ from now and it would be _gruesome_ and _tragic_ and someone would have to tell Jesper’s father and Klaus—

“Oh jeeze,” Jesper groaned into his scarf. Klaus would blame himself, wouldn’t he? He couldn’t do that to Klaus, not after Lydia—

Jesper stopped himself there. It felt faintly…disrespectful to… See, because Klaus had loved Lydia with all his heart—any idiot could see how much love Klaus poured into the things that reminded him of Lydia—and Lydia’s passing had broken something in Klaus and Jesper could not—no way in hell could he somehow imply, even to himself, that him getting his stupid, stupid ass killed in a snowstorm would hit Klaus has hard as—sure, Klaus would be _sad_ , but he’d loved Lydia and he didn’t lo—

A tremendous crack echoed over Jesper’s head. He barely had time to look up before a rotting branch—laden with hours of snow—crashed to the forest floor a scant few paces from him. Beneath him, the horse brayed in panic and bolted forward. Jesper’s everything—legs, hands, fingers—were too numb to hold on properly and he tumbled from the horse’s back in a painful tangle of limbs followed by a hard thud into wet snow. Spluttering, Jesper struggled to a sit and just barely spotted the horse’s tail end disappear into the gloom.

“No no no no,” he babbled, trying and failing to stand. “No no no no no no no no no no no _no_ you cannot—you’re _kidding_ me! I—“ He squawked when his foot collapsed through layers of powdery snow. “You rotten piece of horse meat!” Jesper bawled into the wind, tugging fruitlessly at his leg. “I’m selling you to the _butcher_! For _stamp glue_! No, I’m giving you to him for _free_! Get back here!”

The blizzard swallowed his words. Night had truly fallen, and Jesper could only see the barest outlines of the trees around him. He shuddered hard and huddled in on himself, and for a long, long moment he felt impossibly small and alone.

“No, okay, okay, this is fixable, this is…I’m not dead yet, right? That’s a start. Step one. Don’t die. See? I’m doing great.” Jesper tugged at his leg again. “Step two. Start walking.”

It took some doing. At one point, Jesper figured out that he had to go horizontal and drag himself from the snow that way. After some struggle, he managed to get back on his feet. He realized, with a sick thud, that the snow reached his waist and was still climbing.

“That’s fine,” he muttered. “I don’t—I just need to walk. If I can walk, it’s okay.” He could walk, he found. A slow, lurching walk, but it was forward motion, and Jesper was willing to count that as a victory. He had to focus on one step at a time, and he had to do that so he could ignore that fact that he’d lost sensation in his fingers and toes a while ago, and his eyelashes crunched when he blinked, and his legs became more and more sluggish with time. He took a break after about ten minutes, then began walking again when he realized that he could actually feel his core cooling if he stopped too long. The panic had settled into a heavy weight in his chest by then. He sang, he talked nonsense to himself, he cursed stupid blizzards and stupid horses, and he kept doing that until his lips numbed and he couldn’t talk at all. Then he just focused on moving, kept his eyes on the endless plain of snow before him, and he considered that he might never see his family again. His dad, but also Alva and Margu and all the Sami that had become a weird sort of extended family and—well. Klaus, of course. He’d never see Klaus again. Jesper stumbled a little, eyes squinched up, and the panic in his chest dissolved into something very much like grief. He stopped, face buried in his hands. He’d never said—he’d never had the _guts_ to say—

The ground dropped away beneath him. Suddenly, Jesper was tumbling down a steep hill of rocks and roots, and sharp pain flared up his leg, and then his temple smashed into something hard and there was a brilliant flash of pain, and then nothing at all.

* * *

There was a horse on Klaus’ porch.

He’d heard the hoof steps as he was putting the kettle up to boil. He thought at first that the reindeer were taking refuge from the storm, but when he peered out the window, he spotted a horse’s flickering tail and laid-back ears. Frowning, Klaus donned his fur coat and cracked the door open enough to get a proper look at the thing.

It took him a moment, but then his stomach fell when he recognized Jesper’s swaybacked old horse.

“He wouldn’t,” Klaus murmured, stepping onto the porch to place his hand on the horse’s neck. The horse nickered wearily. “He wouldn’t be traveling on a night like this, would he?” Klaus asked. The horse gazed at him balefully.

Klaus hurriedly led the horse to the stables and left it with dry hay and a bucket of mash. When he stepped from the barn, a fresh gust of wind forced him to brace himself against its force. No one should be out in this storm. No one would survive it. And Jesper—

Heart now thudding hard in his chest, Klaus turned to jog toward his house. He removed the kettle from the fire then gathered his supplies quickly but carefully, checking that he had everything sorted in the various pockets of his coat. He strapped on his best pair of snowshoes, jammed his axe into place on his belt, and finally stepped through the doorway to face the howling blizzard outside.

Really, he had no idea where to start. Smeersberg wasn’t a huge island, but it was large enough to lose one small postman in a bad blizzard. Klaus started down the trail, lantern held high and breath coming in tight. He was a veteran of these woods, but he quickly realized that he kept losing the trail. He’d backtrack, carefully search for the winding, subtle dip of snow, and start again. This wasn’t going to work. If Jesper was—he’d be buried completely if the snow kept coming at this rate.

Klaus blinked into the wind and swallowed hard. Then he licked his chapped lips and breathed, “I need help. Please.”

Klaus inhaled deep, exhaled gently. The blizzard thrashed around him, but he tried to ignore that. Tried to focus instead on a smaller, more stubborn thread of wind that tugged at his beard in light gusts. He took one step forward, then another. He moved forward like that, eyes half lidded, focusing hard. He paused at the edge of a creek and climbed down with care. And that was when his lantern light fell on a small, dark, huddled mass.

Klaus’ throat pinched shut. He collapsed to his knees and pawed aside the snow that had accumulated around the body. When he rolled it over, Jesper’s pale, drawn face came into view.

For a moment, Klaus thought he had to be dead. Jesper’s lips had turned pale blue, and his eyes were sunken deep in their sockets. But when Klaus bent his head toward Jesper’s, he felt the smallest puff of warm air hit his cheek.

“Oh thank you,” Klaus breathed, unaware that his sight had grown blurry. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Quickly, Klaus parted his massive fur coat and scooped Jesper up, tucking him in against his chest. Once Klaus had refastened the coat around Jesper—far too still and thin and cold—he kept Jesper in place with one hand, grabbed the lantern with the other, and hauled himself to a stand. Still keeping one arm securely fastened around Jesper, Klaus began to walk.

* * *

When Jesper oozed into consciousness again, he was mainly aware of pain. Pain focused on his right leg and left temple. Bad, bad pain. He hated pain. Pain was bad.

But, he was not necessarily cold. Not exactly toasty, but not freezing out of his mind either. He appeared, he realized, to be swaddled in furs that smelled like smoke and wood shavings. What a good smell. Jesper liked that smell very much.

Everything jostled, and the pain in Jesper’s leg snapped into hard focus, and he let out a strangled moan. The world stopped jostling, and the warm furs around him shifted.

“Jesper?”

Jesper did not so much hear the word as he felt it. It rumbled against his skull, coming from somewhere in the mass he was currently leaning against. Blearily, Jesper peeled his eyes open and peered up. He was almost lost in a cascade of white beard, but he still managed to catch sight of the warm blue eyes, and he knew that smell, and he knew this fur coat.

“Oh,” he rasped. “Hey.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

And hey, what did Jesper know, he was half out of his mind with pain and cold and maybe this was the last desperate hallucinations of a dying man. But Klaus’ eyes looked kinda wet.

“Uh. You come around here often?” Jesper hacked out a laugh at that, then had to stop because his head started pounding like someone inside his skull had a hammer and wasn’t afraid to use it. Above him, Klaus shook his head.

“What?” Jesper managed.

“You’re impossible.”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

“You might as well.” Klaus hefted him, and that was when Jesper realized that he was being _carried_.

“What—"

“I found you about ten minutes ago in the snow.” Klaus began moving again, and Jesper had to grit his teeth as the pain in his right leg flared bright again. “Are you all right?”

“Me? Peachy,” Jesper gasped. “On an unrelated note, I think my leg is the tiniest bit broken.”

Klaus stopped again. “Oh,” he blurted. A moment, and he began walking again at a slower pace. “Is that better?”

“Marginally.” A pause. “Am I going to die?”

“I don’t think men on the brink of death talk this much.”

“Fair point, though I could prove the exception. My dad always did say that I’d probably run my mouth right into the grave, so who—nngg.”

“Sorry. I had to hop a stream.”

“Nah, don’t mind me. I’ll just be here. Suffering.”

“Keep talking.”

“What, and annoy you into changing your mind and dumping me over the next ravine?”

“I’m not going to dump—I like listening to you talk.” Klaus ducked briefly to avoid an unseen branch. “And talking will keep you awake. You need to stay awake right now.”

“I…okay.” Jesper winced at another spray of pain across this temple, digging his forehead into Klaus’ chest. “Yeah, I can talk. Talking is easy. I can talk about the fact that, also, my head is about to crack open. I think I hit my head on a rock? I dunno, I lost track of time after that stupid horse bucked me.”

“That explains that, then.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it. Keep going.”

They went like that for another twenty minutes, Klaus moving gingerly through the snow while Jesper prattled about whatever godforsaken thing popped into his head, mostly muffled against Klaus’ chest. And yes, Jesper was cold and hurting and scared beyond proper reckoning at how he’d almost died, but there was a small horrible part of him that was actually enjoying this. So he’d had a fantasy or two that involved him being rescued and carried around by a massive bear of a man. Sue him.

Some indeterminate amount of time later, Jesper became aware of a new source of light seeping into his periphery. He risked lifting his head and squinting in that direction. He almost sobbed with relief at the sight of Klaus’ cabin.

“I was that close, huh?” he rasped.

“You did fairly well, considering.”

Jesper huddled back against Klaus with a huff. “Don’t you patronize me.”

Klaus didn’t answer, but this close, Jesper could feel his chest jump with a quiet laugh. Well, good, that was something. If Jesper could make Klaus laugh, maybe almost dying had been worth something.

* * *

Klaus laid Jesper on the long couch in front of the fireplace then hovered over him, mind abruptly blank at what to do next. Jesper was too small and pale, staring at Klaus with red-rimmed eyes. His lips were tinged blue, and that made Klaus’ heart pitch itself against his chest like a snared rabbit.

Warmth. Jesper needed to get warm first.

With that thought firmly in place, Klaus piled several more logs onto the low fire, stoking it to reinvigorate the flames. He realized his hands were shaking. Klaus returned his attention to Jesper, who was still staring at him blearily.

“We need to get you out of those clothes,” Klaus stated. Jesper rasped a thin exhale. It took Klaus a moment to realize it had probably been meant as a laugh.

“You propositioning me, big guy?” Jesper asked.

“No, I—” Klaus blinked. “They’re wet.”

This time, Jesper blinked. “Oh,” he said. Then, “I don’t think my fingers work.”

“I can—” Klaus faltered over whatever words came next and instead bent to gently undo the buttons of Jesper’s coat. Jesper remained silent and still and watched Klaus’ large hands fumble with the little gold buttons stamped with the Royal Mail’s insignia.

The postman coat was already beginning to show wear, little rips and places where thread had been snagged loose. Parts of it had become frozen into place. Cheap make, probably. Probably mass produced somewhere in a mainland city factory. Klaus could do better. He was more skilled with wood and metal than with needle and thread, but still, he knew enough. He’d made his own great, heavy overcoat, after all. When all this was over, Klaus would make Jesper a new postman coat. Same color so he could still be distinctive—Klaus knew Jesper liked to be distinctive—but warmer. Real fur lining, higher quality cloth, maybe an oilskin outer layer to keep him dry. Something—something better. Something that would keep him alive.

Klaus managed to get the coat unbuttoned and ease it from Jesper’s shoulders. Jesper shifted to help as best he could. Together, they removed the sweater Jesper had on under the coat, then the undershirt. The boots came off with more difficulty and rough sounds of pain from Jesper, even with all of Klaus’ care. He ended up cutting the pants away. His first glimpse of the broken leg showed a swollen, misaligned mass just above the ankle. Klaus winced in sympathy. A quick review of Jesper’s feet showed no blackened toes, just red-pale and shiny. The same was true for this fingers and nose. Not ideal, but better than Klaus had feared.

With Jesper undressed, Klaus hurried to fetch fresh clothes and several quilts from his bed. They spent another several minutes struggling to get the dry clothes onto Jesper, and then Klaus wrapped him in one of the thick quilts. Finally, Klaus eased himself onto the couch, reached over, and pulled Jesper into his lap and against his chest. Jesper grunted, but otherwise didn’t struggle. Klaus arranged more quilts around them and made sure Jesper’s hands lay in the space between their chests. He leaned back and stared into the fireplace, eyes wide and bleary. The fire was beginning to rouse again, eating away at the new logs.

“Klaus?”

It was the first thing Jesper had said in minutes. Klaus glanced down to where Jesper rolled his head up slightly to look at him.

“I’m feeling kinda—if I fall asleep. Is that bad?”

Klaus blinked, hard, then looked back into the fire.

“I can feel you breathing,” he said. He was relieved his words had come back. “I’ll wake you up if it seems irregular. I’ll have to wake you up soon anyway. Once you’ve warmed up a bit, you’ll need something hot to drink, and I need to set your leg.”

“M’kay,” Jesper exhaled. He tucked his cold, cold nose into the crook of Klaus’ neck. “I trust you.”

Klaus continued to watch the fire as Jesper’s breathing became long and even against him.

* * *

“You’ll need to get back into town so the doctor can see to you properly,” Klaus said several hours later. He rummaged noisily through his little cabinet of tinctures and salves.

“It looks like you did a decent job,” Jesper said, examining the rough splint Klaus had bound to his leg. He sat lengthwise across the couch, swathed in the pile of quilts. Pale flushes of color had returned to his cheeks and nose.

“It’s good enough for now,” Klaus said. “But I’m no doctor, and that’s no small set of injuries.”

“Ehhh I mean, you’re not wrong, but have you ever met Dr. Nilsson? Pretty sure he used to be the town vet before he started treating people. _Old_ too, honestly no idea how he’s still getting around on his own. Uhh, a few chickens short of a coop, if you get my drift.”

Klaus turned slightly, the edges of his mouth curled up. “I’m old,” he said.

Jesper guffawed before he could stop himself. “You’re not old,” he said. “I mean—okay yeah there’s the hair but plenty of people go gray early. I ever tell you about my old tutor? Gray at thirty, I swear to god. And you’re, you know, still put together in the ole’ noggin. Relatively, I mean, there was the whole living alone in the woods and making toys and birdhouses, but I guess you had a good excuse. Not excuse, I mean—" Jesper stumbled into silence.

Klaus approached the couch, a jar of ointment in hand. He sank onto the couch beside Jesper and offered one large, rough hand. “Where else did you break the skin?” he asked.

Jesper blinked at the hand, then pulled one arm free from the quilt. He examined the underbelly of his forearm and its cross-cross of angry red cuts. “Here’s one,” he muttered, and shoved the arm toward Klaus. Klaus gently angled the underside of Jesper’s arm toward him and uncapped the jar. The air filled with an acrid, medicinal scent. Klaus scooped up a fingerful of the ointment and began to work it into the cuts. Jesper’s arm jerked.

“I know,” Klaus murmured, keeping Jesper’s arm in place by its wrist. “When it stings, that means it’s working. That’s what Lydia always told me.” Jesper didn’t reply immediately, which probably meant something. Klaus couldn’t have clarified what, exactly. People weren’t always readable to him, even the ones he loved. “Between us, she and I had enough medicinal knowledge to get by,” Klaus continued. “She’s the one who taught me the recipe for this ointment. From her great-aunt. It helps keep infection down.”

Jesper still wasn’t speaking.

“You’re right,” Klaus continued. “I know enough to take care of you for the moment. I’ve set my fair share of bones. But I’d really prefer you see the doctor as soon as possible. Chicken coop or no. He’ll know things I don’t.” He finished rubbing in the ointment and drew his hands away from Jesper’s arm. His hands found their way to his lap, not moving. Jesper’s eyes were fixed on him, he could tell, but Klaus wasn’t quite able to look at him when he said, “When Lydia got sick, we didn’t go into town immediately. We waited. By the time we did go, they couldn’t help her.”

Jesper swallowed audibly. “Right,” he rasped after several seconds. “Yeah. Um. Yeah, I can go back to town.”

Klaus glanced over and smiled. “Thank you.” He shifted and nudged Jesper’s undamaged leg through the blankets. “Where else?”

Klaus worked through the cuts and scrapes slowly, methodically, the way he did most things. Jesper didn’t say much during the process, which niggled at Klaus. But maybe he should have expected it. Jesper tended to go quiet when Lydia came up.

“Not even sure how soon I can go back to town, though,” Jesper spoke up as Klaus capped the ointment jar. “Pretty nasty out there.”

“It’s deep snow,” Klaus acknowledged, glancing out the window. “We’ll have to see how long the blizzard lasts. Once it stops, the reindeer should be able to manage the trip.”

“Unlike ole’ glue factory.” Jesper snorted. “I can’t believe it went right to you.”

“He knows the way,” Klaus said. “Maybe you were confusing him.”

“ _I_ wasn’t confusing him!” Jesper spluttered. “I’m the _postman_. I know where _I’m_ going.”

Klaus’s lips braided into a smile before he could stop himself. _There he is._

“Either way,” Klaus said, “you and the glue factory are both stuck here until the snow slows down.” He bent over to stoke the fire and toss in another log. “Hungry?”

Jesper sighed behind him. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I didn’t eat before I left.”

Klaus straightened and raised his eyebrows at Jesper, setting the poker back in its holder. “You didn’t?” he echoed. “Why not?”

Jesper huddled into his pile of quilts, brows low. “I was trying to beat the snow. Didn’t want to waste time, did I?”

Klaus eyed him as he crossed the cabin to the small kitchen. “About that,” he said. “Did you…realize how bad the weather was?”

Jesper exhaled. “No Klaus, somehow I missed that small detail.” Klaus raised his eyebrows again. Jesper scrunched his eyes closed and sighed. “Yes, Alva told me not to risk it, and it looked nasty, sure, but I figured I could make it in time—and we’d planned this.”

“Maybe, but by late afternoon I assumed you wouldn’t be coming,” Klaus said. He pulled a loaf of thick, brown bread from its box. “Alva was right,” he said. He blinked and looked down as something hard lodged in his throat again. “You could have died.”

“Augh,” Jesper’s voice said, but Klaus wasn’t looking up to catch the expression that came with it. He concentrated on finding the bread knife. “Look, you’re not _wrong_ ,” Jesper said. “But do not tell Alva she was right or she’ll be insufferable for at least the next year. Probably longer.”

Klaus managed to locate the knife and thrust it into the bread. The cabin was silent for a long moment, save for the Klaus’ movements, the fire, the wind screaming outside, and the settling of the cabin deep into its foundation. The foundations that Klaus had built with his own hands. That he’d assumed would support and shelter a family one day. And he hadn’t been wrong, exactly, but he hadn’t expected his family to be—

“Klaus?”

Klaus grunted.

“You doing okay, big guy? You’re doing the strong and silent thing.”

“I don’t like how flippant you’re acting about this.”

“I’m not being _flippant_ , I just—” Jesper made a frustrated, strangled noise. “I didn’t die, all right? Can we leave it at that?”

Klaus sighed and set down the bread knife. He wiped one broad hand down his face. “Jesper,” he said. “I’ve lost enough people I love. Please don’t threaten to add more to the list, all right?”

That, for some reason, got Jesper to shut up. When Klaus brought over the bread and promised to pull together a stew, Jesper only accepted the food and nodded mutely.

* * *

It was difficult to tell when morning arrived. The sun—wherever it was—couldn’t penetrate the thick blanket of low, gray clouds. Which wasn’t unusual for Smeersberg, but Jesper thought it might be worse than usual. Just an extra kick of gloom to keep things interesting.

Klaus braved the elements to fetch more firewood and check on the stables. When he returned, he reported that the horse and reindeer were fed and sheltered, but the blizzard had only lessened slightly.

“It’s a bad one,” Klaus said grimly, shaking snow from his boots and massive fur coat. “Worst I’ve seen in a few years.”

“A few years?” Jesper asked, straightening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry,” Klaus chided, hanging the coat on its hook. “I’ve seen worse. We have enough food and firewood. Just have to wait it out.” Jesper’s expression must have been grim because Klaus added, “I’ll get the hot water going. I’ll make porridge.”

Jesper wasn’t worried about the food supply. Klaus had lived by himself for years; Jesper trusted that he had proper winter stores. No, Jesper was just coming to the realization that he was looking at another few days in the cabin with Klaus and he uh. He couldn’t do that.

Last night, Klaus hadn’t slept in his own bed. He’d insisted on napping in the large armchair by the fire, waking often enough to toss wood onto the fire and keep it high.

“You sleep,” Klaus had ordered. “I’ll make sure it stays warm in here.”

And that had left Jesper curled up under several layers of quilts, ignoring the throbbing in his head and leg, watching Klaus gaze into the fire with his soft blue eyes and his large, heavy head resting in one calloused hand. Jesper’s chest had been crawling with dread. Klaus had gone and dropped the l-word like it was nothing, and that combined with the dramatic mid-blizzard rescue and the tending of wounds and the fussing about getting Jesper back to town and—and the fact that the smell of smoke and wood permeating the cabin was so damn _comforting_ that it threatened to make the entire almost-dying ordeal worth it because it meant Jesper got to be _here_ , sharing space with this man, listening to his steady breathing, steeped in the placid, careful way he moved through the world—

No. Jesper couldn’t stay here. It was going to kill him.

Unfortunately, the blizzard was also going to kill him, which left Jesper in what you might call a bind.

“How’s the leg?”

Klaus settled on the couch beside Jesper. Jesper glanced over and found the kettle hanging above the fire.

“Still broken, I assume,” Jesper said. He threw back the quilts and examined his splinted leg. “Yep. Would ya look at that. I’m a savant.”

Klaus huffed a laugh and bent over. His fingers barely skated over Jesper’s lower shin, just above the ankle that was still horrifically dark purple and blue.

“Still swollen,” Klaus said. “But doesn’t look infected. How’s the pain?”

“Oh, you know.”

Klaus waited. Jesper sighed.

“Not great,” he admitted. “Especially when I move. But better than last night.”

“As good as we’ll probably get for now,” Klaus said. “And the head?”

“Feels like someone’s driving a stake into my skull.”

Klaus frowned and placed the back of his hand against Jesper’s brow. Jesper’s insides withered and bloomed at the same time. “No fever,” Klaus said, withdrawing his hand. “I might have something to help with the pain. Let me look.”

Jesper watched Klaus lever himself from the couch and cross the room to the same cabinet as last night. For a long while, the only sound was cracking firewood and the gentle clatter of glass bottles being pushed aside. See, this was the problem. Jesper could watch the big guy in complete, rapturous silence for minutes at a time and not even realize he was doing it. When Klaus turned back around, Jesper immediately dropped his gaze to his hands, which were picking uselessly at the topmost quilt on his lap.

“Found it,” Klaus said triumphantly, holding up a little blue bottle with a dark liquid inside. “The good stuff.”

“Whisky?”

“I—whisky?” Klaus echoed. He blinked. “Why would—no.”

“You sure?” Jesper asked. Unbidden, his mouth curled into a smile. He’d gotten Klaus flustered. He loved when he could do that. “My old nanny swore by the stuff. Couple fingers of it every time I got sick.”

Klaus raised his eyebrows and crossed the cabin to fetch a spoon from the kitchen. “You mainlanders have some strange practices.”

“Right, sorry, _we’re_ the weird ones.”

“You are,” Klaus said placidly as he approached the couch. He uncorked the bottle and carefully poured out a spoonful of dark red-brown liquid. “I’ve never met a mainlander who didn’t confuse me.”

“That might say more about you than about my illustrious people, big gu—mph” Jesper gagged as Klaus stuck the spoon in his mouth and the bitter liquid washed across his tongue.

“Eugh,” Jesper spat, jerking his head back while Klaus chuckled. “Is that laudanum?” Jesper hacked. “I despise that stuff.”

“Didn’t have any whisky on me,” Klaus said, shrugging lightly. He popped the cork back into the bottle, placed it on the small side table, and leaned further into the couch, one arm stretched across its back. “Give it a few minutes. Should help.”

“Ugh.” Jesper flopped back down on the couch. “I can’t believe I’m stuck here with you.”

“I thought you almost died trying to get here.”

Jesper crossed his arms and stared resolutely into the ceiling. “Which says something about my judgement.”

He felt the rumble of Klaus’ laughter through the couch. He abruptly sighed and closed his eyes, unable or unwilling to look at the expression on Klaus’ face.

* * *

Jesper slept through the rest of the morning and into late afternoon. Klaus left him to it, busying himself with the usual winter chores. He triple-checked the firewood supply, broke the thin layer of ice on the reindeers’ water trough, refilled their feed buckets, and reestablished the trail that connected the cabin to the stable and outhouse. The snow was nearly to his waist and still falling, and it took more time than he expected to shovel enough of it away that he’d be able to reach the reindeer the next day. As soon as the snow abated, he’d have to be ready to bring Jesper into town.

When Klaus reentered the cabin, it took him a moment to register how low the temperature had dropped. He could just see his breath, and the fire had fallen to bare embers. Cursing, Klaus rushed across the room. He spent the next several minutes coaxing the fire back to life, until it was roaring again around a fresh pile of dry logs.

With that done, Klaus turned his attention to Jesper. He was still asleep on the couch, mouth hanging slightly open, one arm dangling toward the floor. Klaus took Jesper’s exposed hand and frowned. It was cold. Not blue in the cuticles, not that bad, but cold nonetheless. Gently, Klaus tucked the hand back into the pile of quilts and laid his hand on Jesper’s brow. Too cool for his liking.

“Jesper.” Klaus patted softly at the quilts. “Jesper?”

Jesper snuffled then peeled his eyes open. Klaus’ breath left him in a gust.

“Wha’?” Jesper asked around a yawn. “’vrything okay?”

“It’s fine I just—” Klaus crouched and sat back on his heels. “Er. I came in and the fire had died down and you were cold.”

Jesper stared at Klaus, then snorted. “Should’ve pegged you as the mother hen sort.”

“I’m not,” Klaus protested without thinking.

“Yeah y’are.” Jesper turned over and tugged the quilt up around his ears. “You spend a whole night giving kids handmade toys.”

Klaus stared at the back of Jesper’s head, contemplating this. Then he stood and tweaked Jesper’s ear, earning him a yelp.

“And I babysit you,” Klaus said. “You might have a point.”

* * *

They spent that night on the couch with bowls of soup and some new toy Klaus had dreamed up and wanted to test. It involved tossing a little wooden ball into the air and catching it in a wooden cup. Jesper was very bad at it.

“I have a head injury,” Jesper complained when the ball bounced off the rim of the cup and rolled across the floor again. “I can’t be expected to perform under these circumstances.”

“But do you think children would like it?” Klaus asked, standing up to fetch the ball for the third time in as many minutes.

Jesper screwed up his face. “Maybe the masochistic ones.” He watched Klaus get on his knees and feel around the floorboards in front of the fireplace. “Tell you what though, a string would help.”

“Huh.” Klaus straightened and examined the little ball, rolling it between his fingers. “That’s not a bad idea.” He moved to place the ball in his pocket.

“What’re you doing?” Jesper protested. “Give it back.”

Klaus raised his eyebrows at him. “You’re not enjoying it,” he said.

“So? I gotta get this stupid ball in this stupid cup. Gimme.”

Klaus’ eyes crinkled at their edges as he returned to the couch and handed the ball over. Jesper settled back in the couch, eyed the ball balefully, and flicked it into the air. He swerved the cup under it, then watched the ball land a handspan to the cup’s left.

“Mother of—”

“You know, you’re right, you do have a head injury.” Klaus’ hand folded over Jesper’s and tugged at the cup. “Let’s try this again later. It’s just a prototype.”

Jesper relinquished the toy, partly because Klaus was right, partly because the feeling of Klaus’ calloused hand over his made Jesper’s mind blank out briefly. Silently, he watched Klaus place the toy on the side table and glance back over to him.

“Are you still hungry?” Klaus asked.

“I’m fine,” Jesper said. Klaus nodded and took the two empty bowls to the kitchen. Jesper stared into the fire while Klaus knocked around in there for a few minutes, probably washing things up and putting them away. It was so damn domestic.

“Jesper?”

Jesper started when he realized that Klaus had returned, two steaming mugs in hand.

“I will never understand how you move so quietly,” Jesper said, accepting one of the mugs and holding it close to his face.

Klaus laughed as he settled in beside Jesper. “It’s an acquired skill,” he said. He swirled his mug slightly, looking into its depths. “What were you thinking about just now?”

Jesper lifted his head from his mug. “What?”

“When you’re thinking in a good way, you talk. In a bad way, you get quiet.”

Jesper’s lips parted, then closed again. “I didn’t realize that.”

Klaus tilted his head. “Am I wrong?”

“No, that’s the unnerving part.” Jesper looked into his mug too, frowning slightly. “I dunno. Just. Stuff.”

“Stuff,” Klaus echoed.

“No need for the snark.”

“I’m snarkless,” Klaus intoned.

Jesper rolled his eyes, but he was grinning too. He brought the mug to his lips then had to lower it immediately. Too hot still.

“Is it crazy that I’m glad this happened?” he asked.

Klaus shifted slightly beside him. “This—?”

“Being here. Even with the leg and the head and the almost dying. That I was stuck here instead of in town. This is—I’ve been enjoying this. I mean, I’d definitely enjoy it more if I could actually walk around and didn’t have headaches half the day, but it’s—I can’t actually regret riding out into a blizzard.”

Jesper gripped the mug, staring at his rippling reflection on the tea’s surface. He knew he’d said something very intense and very vulnerable and very painful just now, but he wasn’t sure if Klaus would understand it. Klaus wasn’t like that. He didn’t cloak his intentions in sideways words the way people did back home, they way Jesper had been taught. Klaus was all straightforwardness and rough spun honesty and silence when words were unnecessary. Jesper still didn’t know how to navigate it half the time.

“I’d also prefer if you hadn’t gotten hurt,” Klaus said after a long pause. He looked over. “But I’m glad you’re here, too.”

“Oh,” Jesper breathed. He cracked a grin. “Yeah.” Then, “Were you being serious when you said I was one of the people you loved?”

He didn’t _dare_ look at Klaus now. He had no choice but to stare into his still-too-hot tea like it held the secret to life.

“Yes,” Klaus’ voice said, the surprise audible. “Of course. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Jesper wrinkled his nose. For once, he had no idea what to say next, which was just typical of Klaus to do that to him. Klaus shifted, and a large hand settled on Jesper’s shoulder.

“Did you think I was—what, joking?” Klaus asked. And he sounded so damn sad.

Jesper shrugged. “Talk is cheap,” he muttered into his tea. “I know that better than most people.”

Klaus didn’t answer immediately. Jesper heard the gentle _tump_ of a mug being placed on the side table, then his own mug was gently tugged out of his hands. He didn’t try to grab for it, just kept his eyes glued to the floor.

“Jesper.” Klaus hand came under his chin and guided his face up. Jesper focused on Klaus’ shoulder. He couldn’t handle anything close to his eyes. “I love you,” Klaus said in a low voice. “You changed my life for the better. I owe you so very much.”

“You don’t,” Jesper said automatically.

“You don’t get to tell me whether I love—”

“No, not that part, I—” Jesper screwed his eyes shut. “You don’t owe me anything because I’m pretty sure I owe you, and you changed—so much more about me. Just—being around you and doing this work with you and—I mean obviously I love you too, _obviously_ , and I want to keep being around to love you but—”

Jesper had to stop because Klaus face came very close to his. Jesper’s eyes flew up to meet Klaus’, and they were heavy and blue and sad and too kind to bear. They flickered down to Jesper’s mouth.

“Can I—” Klaus started.

Jesper was already kissing him.

* * *

The snow slowed the next morning, and by early afternoon they were in the reindeer sled sailing toward town. Klaus kept the reindeer at a steady pace to avoid jostling the sled. One hand held the reins; the other held Jesper’s hand. Jesper leaned against Klaus’ arm, his cheeks bright red and his gaze gentle. Something about him had softened since last night. Klaus liked it; it suited him.

“After you see Dr. Nilsson—” Klaus started.

“We can go back to your cabin?” Jesper interrupted.

“Maybe.”

“Ugh,” Jesper scoffed. He was flippant, but his hand tightened incrementally around Klaus’.

“If the doctor thinks it’s safe to,” Klaus said. “Otherwise, I can stay in your house for a few days.”

Jesper squinted into the glaring light reflecting off the fresh snow. Clean and untrodden. Entirely unexplored.

“My bed’s kinda small,” he said.

Klaus laughed, surprised. Jesper grinned without apology.

“We’ll see,” Klaus said, snapping the reins. “I think we can figure it out.”


End file.
